


(only to me) you're like a sad song

by bloopee



Category: GOT7
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Sad Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9989729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloopee/pseuds/bloopee
Summary: jackson is only comfortable talking to a tired mark about it, just because





	

**Author's Note:**

> (a practice in writing angst. we all have to learn)

It's half past three in the morning when Mark hears footsteps in the hallway.

 

Trying to be quiet, secretly sneaking wherever.

 

Mark turns away from the door and shuts his eyes in a try to sleep again once he hears the bathroom's door being opened.

 

Jinyoung quietly snores a meter away when Mark hears the same heavy steps turn and tap their way into the kitchen some time later.

 

He cracks his eyes open again and sits up, like he's done at least a couple dozen times just in the past couple hours since everyone's found themselves in the liberty of taking solid six hours of sleep just this single night.

 

He stands up and stretches his arms over his head, quietly pushing open the door and acting like he didn't just listen to Jackson cry in the bathroom for the last eight minutes.

 

"Jackson?" He asks walking into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes to act as if he just woke up.

 

"What's up?" Jackson asks, voice tired and weak. He stands by the stove, a pot placed atop of it.

 

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" He asks, voice low but cheery. 

 

Mark doesn't answer, though if the out of place tone Jackson uses to talk is indication enough, he can go ahead and say Jackson already knew Mark wasn't sleeping.

 

Probably hoping Mark to leave it and act as if he were asleep.

 

"You didn't." He says, voice just barely above a whisper. "What are you doing, anyway?" He asks, sitting himself down by the counter.

 

The bright kitchen light makes him squint for a second, only seeing Jackson as a dark sillhuete.

 

"Making ramen. You hungry?" Jackson asks and Mark nods, even though he isn't. 

 

Jackson already knows what's Mark's answer, as if he ever had the choice to say no, and he readies another block to add into the water once it's boiled.

 

Mark wonders how he should approach this. Jackson. 

 

With his back turned he looks untouchable. Closed off. Strangely lonely without his stage Jackson persona on.

 

Mark shakes his head with all the thoughts falling out and just says:

 

"Are we going to pretend you weren't just crying in the bathroom?" Which is probably not the right way to approach this if Mark thinks about it longer, but this has happened one too many times already for Mark to care about it all that much.

 

Which sounds unsensitive and something Mark doesn't want to feel, but does. Not like he can control it.

 

With Jackson being so closed off, more than people might notice, everything he feels is left to stay inside.

 

It piles, and piles, and crashes over him like waves once it reaches the limit. 

 

Jackson could swim out on his own, Mark knows, but he can't just not try to help him.

 

Because it boosts his ego this much when Mark is there to help and Jackson accepts him.

 

That's, at least, what he tells himself he should think.

 

(Mark's always promised to be there.)

 

Jackson turns around to face him with a soft smile once the ramen is in the metal pot, steam puffing up.

 

"Are we going to pretend that you were sleeping, too?" And it almost sounds like a challenge, so Mark just leans on his elbow, not thinking he could fight Jackson with both of their states like this.

 

"That's fair." He says, because it probably is. "What's wrong?"

 

He stares at Jackson as Jackson tries to formulate an answer with words instead of his actions like he usually does.

 

Because everything Jackson does is so animated and out there, he sometimes forgets words exists and are there free to use not only to entertain.

 

Mark stares, and stares and admires Jackson's messy hair, damaged and stress touched.

 

His eyes, tired and red. Swollen. Free of tears. Free of everything good and bad. Barely present and unfocused.

 

His lips, just barely parted. Ready to spill words Jackson doesn't know the meaning of to explain his emotions he's not used to confronting.

 

Mark loves this Jackson way more than the Jackson he meets in front of the public, he finds.

 

"Is it your family?" Mark asks when he sees Jackson struggle to think of anything. "Do you miss home?"

 

And it's ridiculious to ask, because all of them miss home.

 

Because as much as they repeat that it's fine like this, like it were a song everyone knew the lyrics of, that's not always the case. It's not that easy to convince that it is.

 

"Of course I do." Jackson answers just as obviously as the question called for it. "You do too." He says and Mark thinks if he should nod or not if Jackson already knows.

 

"It's just.. Sometimes I forget it. It scares me." He says and Mark still looks at him. "I forget to think about it. I forget there is something besides, you know. _This_."

 

"Isn't that a good thing? It means you're accepting your life here. Is _this_ not good?"

 

And Mark shakes his head because he himself admits, as soon as the words leave his mouth, that _this_ will never be _that_ and _this_ will never be enough.

 

That it's almost a joke at this point, telling himself that he's fine replacing his home for something he doesn't even have a definition for.

 

"No, it isn't." Jackson shakes his head. "I forget that I have a home, a family. I forget that there are people who wait for me there. At home. And it scares me." He admits. "I don't like not thinking about them."

 

"You're afraid to forget of home?"

 

"Yes!" Jackson nods frantically. "It drives me crazy when I forget something that should be _engraved_ inside of my head. It's not normal! It shouldn't be like _this_."

 

And Mark waits another half a minute if Jackson would find something else he wanted to add. He always does, but this time it doesn't feel like he will.

 

Because Jackson is always too much emotion and too little thought. Because Mark doesn't get it.

 

Maybe because he doesn't get it is why Jackson likes talking to him.

 

Because Mark sucks at comforting and it makes Jackson feel better seeing him try.

 

Mark lets himself talk. He hopes Jackson finds him entertaining, at least, because words are lame, anyway.

 

"But this is your home, too." He says, voice so honest for a second it convinces him too, and it makes Jackson stop and look back at him. To stare.

 

"When you leave, I wait for you, too. If only for a week, I still miss you." Mark talks, voice soft, and Jackson lets his gaze fall to the floor.

 

"I know it's not the same, but I want you to understand that you're needed here, too. Because a home still stays a home without you there, but it never goes away, even if you'd want it to." He finishes and he's not sure if he himself believes it.

 

Jackson looks up at him to try and read his face, but he doesn't get anything, so he just stares back at Mark, eyes barely open.

 

Because even if he was spouting nonsense, at least Jackson will feel better.

 

Because Jackson needs to feel better if Mark wants them to get through this.

 

Because even though they don't talk about it they both recognize the dependence they have one one another.

 

It's something that's just there.

 

He can't do it alone. None of them can, and that's probably the only reason that kept them going in one point or another.

 

Knowing that they're needed. Knowing that they're just not allowed to leave, their own head telling them to suck it up and stay, because even if it won't get better they won't be suffering alone.

 

Mark wonders if Jackson wants to hear any of this, but decides against it once he sees Jackson look down and smile anyway.

 

"Don't... Don't make me cry again, I don't like it." Jackson says and Mark smirks.

 

"Take it either way you want, but the way I meant is that you can try to run away but if you do I'll find your crusty ass and pull you back here." He says and it makes Jackson snort.

 

"If something happens, we're gonna burn together." He adds and Jackson hums. "You're not allowed to have an easy way out."

 

"Aye, aye." Jackson sighs, content. "Sounds like a plan." He says and Mark nods, determined to make it come true.

 

To make them crash and burn together only to stand up, dust each other off, make fun of one another's dirty faces and do it all again while holding hands like little girls.

 

To repeat it, and repeat it, and repeat it.

 

Jackson doesn't thank Mark, not that Mark expected him too.

 

He furrows his eyebrows when he finds Jackson to keep on working on the food, back turned, mixing the pot, his shoulders squared.

 

The light shining in the room hardly feels like it's doing it's job. It's still dark and Mark feels like something is missing.

 

With Jackson it always feels like something is missing, though.

 

"What's wrong, Jackson? What else is there?" He asks, fast and Jackson laughs.

 

"Are you my girlfriend or something?" He asks, voice teasing, and Mark sighs not the least bit annoyed.

 

He places his cheek against the cold hard surface of the counter trusting it to cool down his head and maybe make him sleep.

 

He can try.

 

"I might as well be. Or a psychiatrist. Whichever you prefer, really." He says. "They're both basically the same thing."

 

"I don't need a psychiatrist with you here." Jackson says over his shoulder. "You do a pretty damn good job at forcing things out of my mouth." He complains playfully and Mark scoffs.

 

And it's not that Mark ever tried, really. It's just he's noticed he's the only one Jackson ever looks at until Mark asks him what's up with the creepy look.

 

"You." Jackson says a ridiculiously long minute later, finding two bowls by the sink and taking them.

 

Everything in Mark's head jumbles up and a danger siren starts blaring.

 

He doesn't think he gets it.

 

He's not sure he wants to.

 

"Me? What about me?" Mark asks, finding the little sense to realize Jackson still wants him here and talking.

 

"You're a problem." Jackson says simply and Mark doesn't know how to take it.

 

Should he be offended? Should he not? Should he stop pretending that he doesn't notice Jackson's eyes following each movement of his body like it meant something?

 

Maybe Jackson wants Mark to apologize. It's his best bet.

 

"I'm sorry?" He tries, but it comes out unstable. Insincere, but Mark doesn't have it in his anything to try to fix that. "I don't get it." His shoulders slump, defeated, as if he was just thinking hardly seconds ago and hadn't found an answer.

 

He wasn't thinking and he didn't find the answer to a question he didn't ask.

 

"Of course you don't." Jackson smiles, placing a bowl of ramen in front Mark with a pair of chopsticks. 

 

Mark's eyes follow Jackson as he places his own bowl just beside and walks to the other side of the counter to bump shoulders sitting down next to Mark.

 

Mark can take a guess and voice whats Jackson's problem is, but he's not sure he could explain it properly even though it's an issue Mark was dealing with for the longest time.

 

Not that he'll ever admit to it.

 

Jackson probably wouldn't get what Mark meant even if he were to explain it, as he doesn't have words to phrase it himself.

 

To try would most likely be wasted effort, so Mark doesn't.

 

They eat in silence, not finding anything to talk about.

 

At least not anything of importance.

 

And complaining about JYP and their job and all of _this_ suddenly doesn't feel like it's anything all that important.

 

"Wanna go to sleep now?" Jackson asks once they're done eating. The bowls sit in the sink waiting for someone else to wash them.

 

Mark shakes his head slightly. If he does it any harder he feels like his head might spin and never stop.

 

It would be funny if his head started spinning out of control, snapping his neck in the process. 

 

Oh my God, Jackson would never let him live it down if he was forced to wear one of those neck cases.

 

It would be awkward for Jaebum to make a public announcement stating Mark got broken in a spinning accident.

 

"Not tired." He says, though everything about him gives away it's a lie. Not that he's trying to hide it.

 

He is, he doesn't mean to lie. He feels as though his tired-ness might soon take physical form just to choke Mark down. It's just he feels as though he wouldn't fall asleep even if he tried to.

 

Jackson isn't worth to worry. His problems already probably started piling up for the next time he cries in the bathroom at 4AM and Mark will be there to try and comfort him and pat his back un-awkwardly. 

 

To eat his shitty night food and act like between Jackson's sad tone talking about his family and stress, and it - it wasn't the worse thing.

 

But for now Mark's still tired. Next time, maybe, he wont be.

 

Jackson gets it, just so. Wordlessly. Easy.

 

He always gets it.

 

It makes Mark think the next time this happens Jackson will have to stay up the whole night again with him as if it helped.

 

"We can go watch a movie, then." He offers with a tip of his chin towards the TV in the living room.

 

Mark turns his eyes to check the couch which looks much more inviting than the dark of his room and snoring of Jinyoung.

 

He nods and turns away quickly once he watches Jackson's eyes lit up with a very specific feeling Mark would recognize if he wasn't so tired.

 

He turns the lights off and lets the room be lit up by the warm light of their TV and the empty space be filled with it's sound.

 

He ignores the quake of his heart, shakes his head and smiles. He goes to follow Jackson to the pillow fort he's already begun to tear apart the couch to build.

**Author's Note:**

> critisism is very welcome and encouraged!


End file.
